Sword Art Online: A Tangential Tale
by Sautille
Summary: Aincrad Arc revisited through an OC perspective. Follows the light novel story canon as well as I can remember it, though I have made adjustments to the game mechanics to fit my preferences and interpretations. Even though my writing style and cultural background differ I hope it fits within the spirit of the original SAO.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Sword Art Online. I would like to thank Kawahara Reki for the vision of the SAO environment and you for taking the time to read my efforts. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One: Prologue – In Despair's Grasp…

The entrance doors closing echo throughout the chamber with the finality of the last chime of the carillon. Kilaran shivers, each convulsion causing his grip to tighten again and again on the hilt of the tantou. _Something_ pricks at the back of his conscious, but he shoves it aside. Darkness envelopes Kilaran and those around him once more until the torches light, slowly revealing the room – the sound of each torch as it catches flame a breath, as if the hall itself were coming alive. Kilaran steps forward, his footsteps muffled slightly by the thin layer of mist above the floor, and yet amplified immensely by the footsteps of his companions. The group slinks to the center, beneath the vaulted dome, each footstep, each clink of weapon against armor, each breath reverberating in the emptiness. Pricking becomes lancing, becomes insistent – Kilaran tries to push it away, to forget it – fails.

"Hey – " Kilaran calls out, voice hollow as his footsteps.

"Above us!"

Kilaran dives back towards the door on reflex to the cry, rolls, and twists back around towards the center of the room. He sweeps his gaze upwards, towards the ceiling, towards death. The creature undulates across the ceiling on numerous legs, its entire body the pale ivory of decayed bone.

The Skullreaper lunges away from the obsidian surface, its scythe-like arms extended from the misshapen skull. Kilaran's legs tremble, insistent becomes consuming, his gaze fixes upon the corporeal nightmare before him.

"Don't just stand there! Scatter!" The shout breaks Kilaran out of his stupor – enough for him to shift his gaze to the players below.

"This Way!" Another voice that barely registers in Kilaran's mind. Two of the players turned to run, but the third – Kilaran stumbles forward a step. Shi stands absolutely still, his gaze not directed at the monster but back towards the voices. The floor trembles beneath the behemoth as it lands behind the players, causing them to stumble. The extended arm contracts, slicing through the body of each player. Shi's face expresses the most emotion Kilaran has ever seen on it, its baby features contorted in terror. Kilaran collapses as his legs give way as that _something_ becomes terror, his face mirroring Shi's as despair writhes through him. His scream for his guild mate wells within him, a wild beast desperate to escape, to be released, to be stifled by the tyrannical grip fear has over his clenched jaws. All three players explode into thousands of shards that fade to dim motes before disappearing entirely.

Kilaran struggles to breath, even if it is artificially – he has not suffered from such fear since that first day.


	2. Chapter 1: Duality

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sword Art Online. I would like to thank Kawahara Reki for the vision of the SAO environment and you for taking the time to read my efforts. I hope you enjoy.**

Chapter One: Duality

November 6th, 2022

Kilaran lay motionless for a moment where he had sprawled out after falling down the grassy slope, his breath, although artificial, coming in halting gasps. After interminable seconds he rolled himself over onto his back, arms propping him up like the poles of a lean-to. Kilaran's eyes were drawn back to the top of slope and the trees beyond by the piercing moan of a wolf's howl and the subsequent appearance of the two wolves that had chased him here. Kilaran's hand fumbled in the grass for the dagger he had dropped, grabbed it, dropped it, grasped the leather hilt – hard.

The pair of wolves padded down the slope as if treading a level path and paused at the bottom of the hill for a moment.

Kilaran attempted to stand but only succeeded in getting halfway before losing his balance and falling backward, turning the movement into an awkward scuttle away from claws and fangs bearing down on him. Some small portion of Kilaran admired the detail of Sword Art Online as the breeze that brushed his cheek bent the grass, as the muscles of the wolves bunched for the lunge, as his body shifted when he cringed away from the impending blow.

Kilaran opened his eyes in response to a high, sharp cry and the telltale whine of a Sword Skill in time to see the world drown in blue as a spear pierced through the first wolf. The shattered polygons of the wolf's body cleared away from Kilaran in time for him to see another player catch the second beast on his wooden buckler, redirecting its lunge across his body and using the momentum to spin around, the vibrant red of his Slant suffusing the white of his armor and clothing with fleeting color. Kilaran collapsed and expelled one short breath.

"Ah, thanks. I really thought I was going to die there." On the ground Kilaran could see the inverted body of his other rescuer. Short, but no mistaking that black clad body as female. "Or perhaps I did die, and a Valkyrie has come to take me away?" He was rewarded with laughter, the gentle chime of china to the harsh shattering glass of death.

"Unfortunately, handsome, one must also be a valorous warrior to be taken to Valhalla. However, I can give you a hand up." The white hair of the woman's ponytail fell across her shoulder, framing her face, as she bent down with a hand extended. Kilaran's hand froze on its way to meet hers. That face – no, more like a sandstone cliff – a cliff that, in the centuries of its existence, wind and rain had happened to wear away into the likeness of a face. A crack in the strata widened into a smile.

"Old man, you picked one that's just my type," the woman said to her companion as she grabbed Kilaran's hand and pulled him up.

"I should think that after all these years I'd know what _your_ preferences are." Once again on his feet Kilaran turned towards the speaker. After the woman's face he was curious to see the man's face, but he only met with disappointment. The "Old man" had shaggy black hair that melded into an equally shaggy, enormous black beard; the face could hardly been seen.

"And here I thought previous disappointments were because you just didn't know any better. I guess that's about all I can expect from an old geezer," the woman said as she stepped forward to meet the man, her neck almost comically arched back so that she could look him in the eyes.

"Ha! So there's still brain enough tumbling around in there to catch on to my tricks, you old hag. I –"

"Um…" Kilaran voiced. …_What is going on here?_ He finished to himself.

"Oh, right. Sorry. Got a little carried away there." The white clothed player coughed as if to clear his throat.

"Don't mind him. He just gets a little excited sometimes," the woman said, as if she had not just been arguing as well. The two turned to face him together, side by side. "But you know beginners shouldn't stray so close to the forest in this game." The woman flourished her spear to point at the trees behind her before setting it back down next to her all in one, smooth practiced motion, as if she had held it in her hands all her life.

"I'm not a beginner. I'm already level 2," Kilaran said. "It's just – well, I –" he stammered, feeling the need to explain, "I was doing fine against the boars. The first wolf was a surprise, but the second one was a shock. I really thought I was going to die. No matter how many times I told myself it was just a game I really thought I was going to die," Kilaran rushed on his voice softer and softer until the final world slipped out of his mouth like a death rattle.

"Well that was your problem," the old woman said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This is reality. You're in this world," a jabbing finger pointed towards Kilaran, "right here," the finger pointed towards the ground, " right now," another overemphasized point towards the ground. "Like when you're sparring in a competition, you know?" The woman carried on, disregarding Kilaran's puzzled face and shaking head.

"You have your homework that should've been done last night, bills that should've been paid a week ago, and what you want for dinner tonight – they're all floating around in your head, part of reality. But – all of those things aren't part of this reality. This reality is just you, the feel of the ground solid beneath your soles, the haft of your weapon firm in your hands, the muscles in your body tense and relaxed all at once, your opponent filling your vision," the woman had shifted her stance, spear held before her with the point just touching the ground, as if she were about to start sparring against Kilaran, "That is your reality."

"You're the only one with all of those problems rattling around in your head. What the old hag meant to say was that it's dangerous so close to the forest alone, so you should party with us," the man said, pointing at himself with his thumb. "We're decent company and not bad in a fight either."

"That too. Though the last guy that partied up with us ran off yelling," the woman's voice deepened in a mock voice, "'I can't take it anymore.' All the way back to town, probably."

Kilaran's mouth hung open slightly. Sure the pair had already forgotten about him Kilaran turned to start walking, away from the forest.

"Hey, wait. We just want to help. I mean, it would really suck to have to come all the way back out here after dying, right?" The man asked. Kilaran rounded on the pair – to see them engulfed in a brilliant blue haze just before the same ethereal mist surrounded him and suppressed the world around him.

Kilaran appeared in the plaza in Starting City to the sound of "…do that again?" The old woman dressed in black was had her gazed fixed on her friend while bouncing on her heels and clapping her hands. After the open hills that the boars inhabited the plaza was stifling. Players were packed in around Kilaran as still more flashes of blue announced the arrival of other players. Kilaran hunched his shoulders slightly, unconsciously, as the ebb and flow of the senseless noise from thousands of people washed over him.

Kilaran glanced around him as the clamor subsided and, mirroring those around him, looked up towards the sky and the base of the level above. The scenery had been replaced with geometric panels declaring a system announce, and the panels wept a viscous, crimson liquid that seethed towards the players, surging and writhing around itself before coalescing into an enormous cloaked figure hovering above the square.

"**Players, I welcome you all to my World. My name is Kayaba Akihiko. Right now, I am the only person who can control this world.**"

"**I think that most of you have discovered the fact that the ****Log Out**** button has disappeared from the main menu. This is not a bug; it is all part of ****Sword Art Online****'s system.**"

Kilaran's thin lips, already parted from the angle he held his head, opened farther. He attempted to call up the game menu, trembling fingers unable to do so. He paused for a moment, tried again. Kilaran's pressed his index finger into the empty selection box where the Log Out button should have been. He pressed at it harder, his body motion carrying his finger through the semi-transparent display. The faceless figure's omnipresent voice reverberated through his head, as meaningless as the previous cacophony of thousands. Kilaran held his finger over the menu, the blank slot highlighted from his touch.

A single disconsolate shriek, stretched out as if it were elastic, dug into Kilaran's conscious, and his eyes focused once again on the menu before him. He jabbed his finger into the menu selection again. And again.

The plaza erupted around Kilaran as players were enveloped in a white light similar to the teleportation before. Kilaran started back a step as the characters around him changed and became less homogenous, more human – and collided with the person behind him. He spun abruptly to apologize, barely forcing the words out before the sudden appearance of the dark skinned giant. The man reached out a hand to steady Kilaran.

"Don't worry about it," he said, his attention quickly returning to the speaker above. Kilaran shifted out of the man's grasp, setting his feet in a wider stance.

"…**Now, I have finished the official tutorial for ****Sword Art Online****. Players – I wish you luck.**"

A pungent silence permeated the plaza – a tense counterpart to the silence that descends after the final note in a concert, while the conductor's baton is still raised. The creature returned from whence it came, the sky and view of the level above reverted to normal, the baton lowered. Cries and screams enveloped Kilaran. Despair echoed throughout the square. It reverberated within him. Kilaran quivered. He brought up his arms, clamping shaking hands over his hears to shut out the noise – to drown out the sorrow and frustration – but the emotions were already etched into his being. Kilaran hunched his shoulders, bowed his head, and screwed his eyes shut, collapsing in on himself, trying to contain the resonant emotions as they intensified. Kilaran's body convulsed as he bent, doubled over, and opened his mouth for the catharsis of release.

Kilaran's scream died prematurely as someone grabbed his arm beneath the shoulder and pulled. He stumbled along, not resisting the force and not really trying to walk, either. A familiar white clothed man, about 10 centimeters taller than Kilaran, was pulling him along as he threaded through the jostling crowd sideways. His left hand extending out before him held the hand of the woman in black, who was now nearly as tall as Kilaran. The crowd finally thinned as they passed beneath the colonnade that rimmed the plaza. The woman slowed so that the three walked abreast of one another, their footsteps on the cobblestone sounding louder as they distanced themselves from the turmoil.

The man finally released Kilaran's arm and, without the support, Kilaran collapsed – right onto a wide, low stone bench. Leaning forward he looked up expectantly at the pair, his chin resting in his hands and elbows supported on his knees.

"I can finally breathe again," the woman said, stretching her arms wide and behind her. She looked down at herself: "I do so hate being _this_ tall," then at the man next to her, and where her voice had been harsh before it softened until she was almost breathed the words, "but I much prefer you like this, old man." She lifted her right hand to his cheek and traced a scar along his now visible jawline with a finger.

The man took her hand in his and pressed it against his cheek, "I suppose I can't call you 'old hag' any more, can I?"

Kilaran coughed.

"Ah, where are our manners? I am Len. Nice to meet you," he said as he dropped the woman's hand and bowed slightly. The beard no longer shrouded Len's youthful face, his figure reminiscent of a distance runner.

"Tomoe," the woman bowed low, bringing her face close to Kilaran's, "I am in your care."

"I am – Kilaran." He bowed slightly from where he sat. "Nice to meet you."

"Great, now that the introductions are out of the way we can get on to more important stuff," Tomoe said, focusing on Kilaran. "Len looks like he really does," Tomoe pointed at him without looking, "I look like I really do," Tomoe pointed at herself, "but you, Handsome, you look just like you did when we first met. Why?"

"I – " _don't know_, Kilaran finished in his head. He held out his hands, fingers spread wide, examining them. The large hands of the avatar certainly were not his real hands.

"Come on," Tomoe said before grabbing Kilaran in much the same fashion as Len had. She pulled him to his feet before walking over to a small pond nearby in the park. "See?"

Kilaran looked. He saw what he had expected. A face that, just like the hands, was intentionally unlike his real face; a face that was handsome in the bland manner of a game, framed by short brown hair and highlighted by impossibly blue eyes, as if they had been chipped out a rolled iceberg. Kilaran looked at the reflection next to his. Tomoe's body was still much the same, albeit considerably taller, and her white hair was still pulled back into a pony tail, but her face was no longer that of an old woman's. With silvery irises set in almond eyes she had an attractiveness that, depending on her personality, might be considered beautiful or almost plain.

"Maybe… Think back to when Kayaba was talking and everyone was changed," Len said, absentmindedly following the line of his scar back and forth with a finger of his own. Kilaran narrowed his eyes, lifted an eyebrow, tapped the tips of his fingers against his thumb one at a time. _Everyone was swallowed up by that bright light, and I ran into that huge fellow, but before that…_

"Ah!" Kilaran exclaimed as he opened his menu, the chime echoing pleasantly through the park. "There it is! I never used the Handheld Mirror. That's probably why my appearance didn't change."

"Seriously? That Kayaba persuaded me with sweet words of gifts! Why didn't you stop me from using the mirror Len?" Tomoe rounded on Len, who laughed.

"As if that would have actually stopped you," he replied.

"Well, it might have delayed me long enough to see what it did," Tomoe said, her voice halting and growing quieter. "Anyway," Tomoe's voice regained its vigor, "aren't you going to use the mirror?"

"I guess so. I – I don't know," Kilaran paused, "I guess it just seems like a disingenuous gift from the gaoler."

"What? Does that mean you're not going to use it? If you're not going to use it you might as well toss it. I mean, it'll just take up an inventory slot."

"Tomoe, just because you're jealous that he hasn't used his yet doesn't mean you should force it on him."

"Well, I guess she's right, though." Kilaran's finger hovered over the dialogue box 'Are you sure you want to delete Handheld Mirror?' Kilaran pushed the 'Cancel' button. "You're probably right." Silence settled over the three like an unexpected snow, an absence of sound that suppressed noise – almost suffocating.

"Ah, Tomoe. I just realized that I haven't eaten at all since we started playing. Would you get us something to eat?" Len asked, his voice loud and excited, as if this were a most important revelation.

"Eh? Why me? I want to stay and talk to Handsome," Tomoe replied. She winked at Kilaran and pouted at Len, both actions obvious to each.

"I just know that you'll find the best food for us, Tomoe. As a woman who can't cook your ability to find food is top notch."

"Oh, really? Well just you wait, old man. One of these days I'll bake a delicious cake and eat it all myself, right in front of you," Tomoe said as she stalked off down the path a few steps before stopping and turning around, her face light up with an honest grin, "And don't let him scare you off Handsome. I still want to talk to you."

Kilaran stared, watching her leave the garden with a gait somewhere between skipping and walking.

"How can she be so flippant about… all of this?" he asked. Kilaran jerked his arm, half reaching towards Len right after speaking, as if in this world he could catch his words and keep them to himself.

"What? What do you mean?" Len asked. Kilaran sighed.

"Well, I mean – she just doesn't seem to care about what just happened to us – to all of us. She's stuck here too," Kilaran finished his thought expecting an unfavorable reaction from the friend of the woman, but Len just threw his head back and laughed.

"That's what you meant? She cares. She cares deeply. It's just, something like 'Would you rather cry or laugh?' and she would rather laugh," Len's voice grew more serious as he recovered from his own laughter, "But I don't want you to get the wrong idea. You just don't know quite as I do. I'm sure she's just as upset as you." Len stopped talking for a moment, tracing the scar along his jaw again. "She's more fragile than she looks. Promise me though, that you won't tell anyone I said this, especially Tomoe."

Kilaran could only nod, while Len paused for a breath.

"I want you to come with us, Kilaran," Len said with his gaze focused on Kilaran. Kilaran met the gaze of Len's black eyes until it became uncomfortable and he turned his head aside, eyes downcast.

"Why? The two of you seem to get along well enough," Kilaran said.

"I – Don't you think our chances will be better with more people? I just think it would be better, better for all of us," Len said, speaking slowly.

"I guess so."

"Great," Len said, his relief almost palpable, before rushing on, "but even if you don't decide to join us – just make sure you keep moving forward. You can't just give up and stop, waiting for – something to happen. It won't. And all that will be left will be your own misery."

Kilaran could only nod as Len's almost choked words fell off into silence. His mind wandered in that stillness, got lost in it, fell into the dark depths and almost drowned, thrashing about for anything to latch on to.

"How did you get the white and black colors for your clothes and armors?" Kilaran blurted out.

"There's the dye option for equipment. The little eye dropper shape in the upper left."

"I know, but those colors aren't under the standard options. Did you find the dyes somewhere?"

Len laughed as a mischievous grin took over his face. He lowered his voice conspiratorially: "You see, we –"

"That," whispered a female voice just behind Kilaran's ear, "is a secret."

**Author's Note: I don't know about you but while I'm writing something I think "hey, this is pretty good," and then I sleep on it and read it the next day wondering what on earth I was thinking the previous day. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and I apologize for being a bit lazy this time around on the revising.**


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